The Warmest Place
by the Canary that Ate the Cat
Summary: It was a late night in January; Blake was cold, and Yang was a "walking hot water bottle". One shot. Relationship can be interpreted to your liking.


It was cold. Too cold. So cold in fact that the clouds had deposited a blanket of crystalline ice flakes all over Beacon. Snow. Blake disliked snow very much. The faunus had made it a point not to allow herself to use the word hate under any circumstances, but if she did, snow would definitely be something she hated.

She glared out the window at the white powder. It was early January; the winter festival had passed just weeks prior but classes wouldn't be resuming til the following Monday. The snow had come in a flurry four days ago and refused to cease, much to Blake's dismay. It was because of this that she had been holed up in the second year common room for the duration of those four days; the heat of the fire her only means of reprieve from the cold weather that she so loathed. This was, by far, the warmest place in the academy.

Blake was freezing.

It's no secret that cats dislike the cold, and try as she might to distance herself from her feline characteristics, Blake had to agree. It was terrible really, and the flimsy blanket she had brought with her from her room did no help in aiding the fire in the battle for warmth.

She glanced at her book again, at the same page she had been attempting to read for the past hour. This was useless. She wasn't getting any reading done, and curfew went into effect in just ten minutes. It would probably take her that long to get back to team RWBY's dorm. So, with a huff and a hoist, Blake trudged on to her room, glowing amber eyes guiding her through the darkness, facing the freezing corridor wrapped in a black fleece blanket which she was sure had her resembling the member of some extremist cult. Not that she knew about that sort of thing. Nope.

The time was approaching midnight and most of the school's inhabitants had already retired to their beds, so Blake approached her shared dorm as quietly as possible. Not to say this was a difficult task for the ninja, but a polite gesture none the less. She slid her scroll across the lock before replacing it in the pocket of her pajamas and slinking in through the now slightly ajar door. The room was pitch black, much like she had expected. She quickly scanned the room for its three other occupants.

Weiss was asleep in her bed with what appeared to be an electric blanket draped across her petite frame, the Schnee logo, as recognizable as ever, stitched into the bottom right corner of the material. The heiress had spoken earlier of not minding the cold, but Blake figured it was easy not to mind when you had the proper resources for keeping warm at hand. Amber eyes continued their journey, shifting to the precariously hung bed above that of the white haired girl's.

A large lump sat atop the bed, made of what appeared to be varying blankets and quilts. Blake was to assume that said pile probably contained the form of their fearless leader. Had her eyes not been trained on the form, she might have missed the subtle shifting caused by the girl's breathing. With further inspection the faunus could hear light snores emitting from the blanketed shelter, causing her to shift her gaze to the right on the last occupied bunk in the room.

Yang's bed sat stacked atop Blake's own with nothing but a few volumes of books holding it up. It didn't look safe. It probably wasn't, but Ruby's bed seemed far less stable, and both bunks had survived a year and a half without collapsing. Blake had lost concern over the subject long ago.

The complete lack of noise coming from the bed above her's was unusual, and had she not seen the bare arm of her partner draped over the side, she might have thought that the blonde was absent from the scene all together. Snoring was clearly a hereditary trait that the sisters shared, and Yang's drowned out her sisters on a nightly basis. As much as she hated to admit it, the silence from the top bunk left Blake just the tiniest bit alarmed.

She moved to her bed, but instead of lying down, stepped on the mattress and hoisted herself up. Peaking over the edge of the top bunk, Blake eyed Yang. The latter lay on top of the blankets, adorning her usual sleep attire of shorts and a tank. Since their first day at Beacon, Blake couldn't recall a single time where the blonde actually slept in her bed, as opposed to on. Yang could always be found lying atop her blankets, even during chilly nights such as then. She was face down into her pillow, arms spread eagle. Blake assumed Yang had belly flopped into bed per usual. Her back rose and fell with her gentle breathing and Blake took this as a sign not to worry about the blonde.

Before heading down to her own bunk, Blake moved to gently position Yang's arm next to her on the bed. It was not a rare occurrence to wake up to whimpering from above because her partner had what she called "dead arm" from the blood flowing down to her fingertips all night. But the moment she grasped the wayward limb, two things happened. The first was discovering that Yang's skin was warm, feverish even. This would have concerned Blake had she been in the right mind, however the second occurrence had startled her far more than the blondes possible illness. Yang's head had sprung up from her pillow, violet eyes now trained on Blake who still held her partner's arm.

It was quiet. And awkward.

Yang squinted at Blake, clearly not possessing the same ability to see in the dark. The moment recognition hit her, her eye's widened, but her brow remained furrowed in confusion.

"Blake?"

She blinked. "Yes."

It was spoken with a matter of fact. Blake had long since dropped such childish acts as denying the obvious, embarrassment aside, and she wasn't about to start it up again. Yang's expression remained.

"Sorry. I was checking on you. I just got in and noticed you were being... unusually quiet."

Blake was referring to the snarls of a dying ursa that typically could be heard coming from Yang's bunk. She was being polite, this Yang knew. It was appreciated.

"Oh yeah! Just went to bed myself actually." How Yang could express her usual exuberance while whispering was beyond Blake. She admired the ability none the less. She was still holding Yang's arm.

"You're hot."

The awkward silence returned with a vengeance. A single blonde brow rose.

"What?"

"Are you feeling alright? You feel feverish."

Well then, that made more sense.

"Right. Yeah, no that's normal. Or, for me anyway. Something to do with my aura. You know, fire and all. Bit of a pain actually; I'm always warm." This had been an uphill battle for Yang ever since she had hit puberty and her semblance developed. Pants had been traded for shorts, winter coats were now a thing of the past. On the coldest of days she could be found sporting a flimsy jumper without a care in the world.

Yang's frustrating attempts to cool down now had Blake's envy. She regarded Yang thoughtfully.

"Wow. I had no idea. Though I must admit, I'd give the world for such an aura right about now." This was emphasized by the chill that rippled through Blake's spine, reminding her just how cold she felt. Yang took note.

"Are you cold? Because if you want we can bunk together tonight. Ruby and I used to do it all the time when she was younger. I'm a walking hot water bottle!"

Blake's cheeks flushed at the thought. The normally composed girl couldn't help feeling just the tiniest bit flustered over Yang's offer to share a bed. It was not something she was used to. Such closeness. But here Yang spoke of it as if it were nothing; a usual occurrence between friends. Perhaps it was. Blake didn't have much to go on in the matters of friendship, all previous attempt having turned sour.

Yang waited for Blake; Blake waited for an appropriate answer to come to mind.

Had it not been past midnight the silence may have felt more awkward. Or perhaps that was the exact reason why the moment was so awkward; the normal silent air of sleep was thick with unspoken words. Blake thought it better to break said silence either way.

"Thank you, Yang, but I'm sure I'll be fine once I'm in bed."

And with that Blake was gone, having retreated back down to her own bunk. She had to admit that her departure from the conversation may have been rude, so as she settled amongst her own blankets, she called back up to the blonde.

"Goodnight Yang."

"Night!"

The reply was quick to follow and Blake couldn't help but to smirk to herself. The ability to whisper jovially was all Yang.

The ability to keep warm under these frigid conditions seemed to be all Yang as well.

Blake lay bundled in the fetal position, trying and failing to concentrate on her own body heat. Grabbing the blanket from around her shoulders she yanked them down over her head. Her hot breath slowly filled the cotton cocoon and she began to regain feeling in her face. She curled in further upon herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. The smaller the space, the easier it would be to warm it up.

Unfortunately, her make-shift hot box was filling with carbon dioxide quicker then it was heat. Blake popped her head back out and took a breath of crisp oxygen. She felt light headed. Best not try that again.

Next she took to desperately rubbing her hands up and down her legs, relying on the friction for warmth. The sound of the motion resembled that of a chirping cricket in the dead quiet of the dorm but Blake was too far gone to care. She was cold and tired and...

"You sure you don't wanna bunk with me?"

A mass of blonde waves crashed over the side of the bed from above and bright, violet eyes, currently upside down, looked at Blake expectantly.

Yang. Sweet Yang. Sweet, fiery Yang. Blake couldn't help but second guess her original refusal of sharing the blonde's bed. Imaging the warmth that had enveloped her hand moments ago at a much higher capacity seemed divine.

What could it hurt? Just two friends cuddling up to keep warm during the night. Or what if this had been a mission? What if they had been sent out to defeat a pack of beowolves and got caught in the forest after dark? They would have to rely on eachother's body heat to survive the night. Had this been battle, or even a training exercise Blake would have thought nothing of it.

And then she shifted her eyes to above her head; the deathtrap that served as Yang's bed. There was no way it could support the combined weight.

"As tempting as that is, I'm not sure I trust your bed to hold an additional person."

Yang's head ascended back up to her own bunk and Blake sighed in her absence. Not a moment had passed, however, before the blonde's entire body swiftly hurtled down, bare feet landing on the plush carpet of the dorm room floor.

"Move over."

Blake looked up, startled.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, move over."

Violet stared into amber, and Blake was sure that by this point Yang's eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to make out her own dumbstruck face.

"Look partner, how am I supposed to fit if you don't move over?"

Blake released her grip on the blankets and wordlessly shifted over, making room for the "walking hot water bottle". Yang took the motion as her invitation and climbed in next to the faunus. She pulled the covers back up to their shoulders, then circled her arms around Blake.

Blake's eyes fluttered closed, soothed by the instant warmth that was Yang Xiao Long. Any awkwardness she had assumed would be present was completely forgotten as she felt the life returning to her frozen limbs. She lowered her head and tucked herself beneath Yang's chin in an effort to preserve the new found heat. Yang chuckled.

"Better?"

Blake sighed, this time in content.

"Much."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet."

The blonde squeezed a little tighter as she focused; her aura flared, skin's temperature increasing a few degrees.

Oh.

This was, by far, the warmest place in the academy.


End file.
